Poetry by Johny Takkedasila

Crutch of Dreams

Before  sun sinks low,
a bird takes flight.
Beneath its wings,
death whispers quietly.
If no water is sprinkled on hut,
an old bird’s breath fades away.

Sky suffers from a skin disease,
its body covered in sores,
from which light emerges—
pus and blood.
How can all skies become one?

A body filled with disease
gets trapped in bird’s cry,
and fading sky
is observed in a fractured, fearful, trembling way.

Eyes breathe deeply,
rise with fear.
In dimming gaze,
Boar brings a fear of life.

Hut must be wet,
bed must be flicked.
Broken trust
stitched with blind beliefs.
In the end, reason is just the will to live!
Red Wattled Lapwing’s voice
is not death’s cry,
hunger, need, and many more!
After eyes fall asleep,
morning grains
become tangled images.

Dreams are like green crops,
signs of caution,
holding onto courage
as a crutch to move forward.

Copyright@Johny Takkedasila